And later my macabre joy sours and I'm weeping for myself, unable to find solace in any of this, crying out, sobbing "I just want to be loved," cursing the earth and everything I have been taught: principles, distinctions, choices, morals, compromises, knowledge, unity, prayer - all of it was wrong, without any final purpose. All it came down to was: die or adapt.
I imagine my own vacant face, the disembodied voice coming from its mouth: These are terrible times
Senast redigerad av Holisistic 2013-02-18 kl. 22:43.